In the Stuttgart central station
Rosalie Hendon
Pigeons flap heavily from
one truss to another, wedge
themselves between a steel beam
and a fluorescent light
Yesterday in Munich a young woman
served me coffee and pastries
She pursed her lips, trying
to remember English for “cherry”
before looking it up on her phone
She took her break, laughing
with a friend outside, legs crossed
and cigarette smoke uncurling
And I thought, I will never be
a German shopgirl smoking with her friend,
making cappuccinos and sandwiches
I will never be that elderly woman
grinning on her bicycle,
wicker basket behind me
I will never be a pigeon,
living in a train station,
eating pretzel crumbs
I can only be here, sipping Fanta
and dodging hungry wasps
Smiling apologetically at German words
streaming at me,
incomprehensible
